Artem’s expression irons out. “Yes. Your father really pulled through for the Bratva.”
“Who woulda thought?”
I’m surprised at the edge of bitterness in my tone. I’d thought enough time had passed to blunt the edge of all my resentment.
But apparently, I thought wrong.
“He will always have my gratitude,” Artem says carefully. “And my respect.”
“Commanding respect was never his problem,” I retort. “He sent Kian?”
“Yes.”
I nod. “That’s significant. Kian’s his last remaining heir.”
“Kian’s not the little boy you said goodbye to, Cillian.”
“I never said goodbye to him at all,” I point out. “I wasn’t allowed to.”
“Well, thankfully, it wasn’t goodbye after all. You have the chance to see your brother again.”
I stiffen at the thought of seeing Kian. I have no idea what to expect, truthfully.
“Where is he?”
“Byrne’s.”
“That little bastard would go straight to a pub,” I chuckle. “I taught him well.”
“I can drive you over there.”
“Boy, you have missed me, haven’t you?” I say, throwing him a wink.
Artem rolls his eyes.
“I appreciate it,” I say, clapping him on the shoulder. “But you go back to your wife. Tell Esme I miss her. I can do this myself.”
He nods. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
He stands up, and I mimic his movement. But what I have to say next doesn’t come so easily.
“Artem…”
He catches the tilt of my tone and looks at me with a frown. “What is it?”
“The last year… It’s been a transformative one for me,” I tell him. “I realized something during my recovery. I’ve always felt like I was chased out of Ireland. But maybe… Maybe the opposite is true. Maybe I ran.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“I’m saying that I think I need to go back home,” I say. “I have unfinished business there I ought to sort out.”
Artem stares at me for a moment, trying to decide whether to argue with me or just support me without question.
In the end, he splits the difference. “You’re sure about this?” he asks softly.
“I’m sure.”
He sighs. “Alright then.”